Those Three Words
by Milaya Milen Zeal
Summary: Christmas is when you spend the day together with those you love. So… I suppose 'knock 'm dead' is the term to use here, hm? (Neku/Joshua/Neku)


_**Those Three Words**_

 **Fandom:** The World Ends With You (TWEWY)

 **Pairing:** Neku/Joshua/Neku (no real uke-seme since there's no smut -le gasp-)

 **Setting:** Post-game, Christmas Eve

 **Summary:** Christmas is when you spend the day together with those you love. So… I suppose 'knock 'm dead' is the term to use here, hm?

* * *

' _Late late late late late late LATE!_ '

That's the only word going through your head as you rush along the white streets as quickly as you can without slipping on the icy paths and landing smack on your bum, or perhaps even worse, but you don't even bother stopping to think about the potential dangers other than slipping, falling, scrambling to your feet hissing in pain and thus being even more late than you already are. Not that you are late, really, but you keep telling yourself anyway so that when you arrive and you see the time you'll feel a sense of relief at _not_ being late and, perhaps, far too early.

Still, you try to be careful as you run, trying so desperately to not jostle the bag with the present in it that you're holding in your hand so tightly, as far away from your body as possible so that the chance of an accident with its contents can be avoided as much as possible. It isn't fragile, per say, and yet you do it anyway, just to be safe that nothing will happen to it as you run and run and run.

And finally, you're there, and you gasp for your every breath, before you raise your head toward the large display above, and the time in its top right, and you breathe in relief, wiping the sweat away, because, yes, you _are_ early, far too early, as you knew you would be, and yet still you feel far more relieved than you should be. You allow your pace to even out then, and you start walking, looking around at all the sights and sounds, and sometimes you stop to marvel at how your breaths are perfectly visible as white puffs of thin smoke and you smile.

It's cold, but you don't care one bit, it's been snowing and it's made traffic impossible, but you don't care, the trains haven't been running for hours because of the snow, but you don't care. You love the snow and the cold, because you can dress properly for the cold, and if you get too hot, you can just loosen your jacket, scarf, or remove your mittens and no one will look at you funny. The heat forces you to wear the minimum amount of clothes and if you get too hot then, you can't even remove something because people will stare.

The lights are everywhere, primarily in red, green and white, but there are plenty of other colors, and everyone is looking so happy and it's almost contagious and you are smiling for a reason you can't even name, and, again, you don't even care. There's a skating rink, too, you see, but you've not brought skates, plus you don't really know _how_ to skate, you've never learned, but you've always wanted to, and, surely, it can't be _that_ hard, you muse to yourself. There are kids happily building snowmen, sticking carrots in their faces and using pebbles for eyes and mouth, and it's fun to watch them rolling the body, then the torso and then the head, though some opt for absolute simplicity with only two parts, because they aren't strong enough or simply want to let others enjoy the snow, too.

You make a note that you want to make a snowman later as well, that would be nice, but it'll have to wait. You find a bench that's unoccupied and settle there for a minute so as to properly breathe and collect yourself again, as you look around and consider the grounds before you. It's cheerful, and there's people everywhere, and normally you'd not want to be anywhere _near_ this amount of people, but you're prepared to make an exception this one time.

Suddenly you hear a cry and you look up, to see a woman waving happily as a man jogs over to meet her. You assume them to be boyfriend and girlfriend, because while they don't kiss or any of that lovey-dovey stuff you dislike seeing in public so much because it makes you want to gag, they are laughing and hugging each other as if they haven't seen each other in forever, then they walk away while holding hands, still laughing, so you figure, ' _yeah, those two are together._ '

Your breath's evened out and you look down now to the gift resting in your lap, your hands held securely on top of it to keep it where it is, safe and protected. A small, half-smiles plays on your lips as you regard it, and you smooth out the wrapping paper and straighten out the ribbon, though it still looks like it's been wrapped by a child rather than the teenager you are, but this is your first attempt, and you like to believe it's well enough for your first time.

As you regard your present, though, you think back to the letter you wrote and dropped off earlier that day before meeting with your friends, and even though you had to slide it under the door and didn't get the chance to see if anyone found it, you like to think it was found on time. It's been almost a full day, so surely it's found its way to the right hands, you reason, but a small part in the back of your mind is saying that, maybe, no one was there to find it, because it hasn't been open once for the past few months.

Still, you dismiss the words and cling to the small ray of hope that that isn't the case and that someone's found it and that the intended recipient has actually read it. Thinking back on it, it's just so embarrassing now to remember how you even came to write it. You were going to type it, because like that you can make all the mistakes you want and the spellcheck can look through blatant errors, you can patch it and tweak it as much as you like, and it's reasonably readable to most anyone, given you've made the font big enough, because those Kanji are hard to read in point 10, or even point 12. But it never came to that, because you'd type, stop, then slam your fingers down on the backspace button until everything was gone, type again, then stop again, go back and edit it, stop again, go back a bit, reread the sentence to keep the flow going as you tried to find what you're trying to say, only to slam your fingers on the delete button, followed again by the backspace button until you're right back where you started, over and over and over until you felt angry enough to punch a hole in your screen. You resisted, because that would be stupid, as you still need it to do your homework and you wouldn't be able to get a new one for several months after. Aggravated with yourself, you'd then proceeded to grab your notebook and your fountain pen, very nearly tore off the cap and started scribbling down whatever came to mind, uncaring if you rambled and just writing until you were almost at the end of your sheet, at which point you decided to stop and wrap up. You didn't even spellcheck and just folded it once, twice, then stuffed it in the envelope you'd set ready for it, the recipient's name already printed on it with that curly, English lettering that you'd never be able to copy that well.

You breathe in and then out and you run a hand through your hair as well as you can with your earmuffs in the way, because, come on, no need to freeze your ears off, right? Anyway, you're a little embarrassed, because you don't even remember half the stuff you wrote down, meaning you could've written complete nonsense, but hopefully you were still lucid enough to not make it sound overly ridiculous.

Anyway, you're early, still, and so you still have time, but you sincerely hope you won't be kept waiting _too_ long, because the bench is getting pretty cold now that you're no longer moving and you shiver somewhat, but you try to bear with it, at least for a little while. You assure yourself, ' _it won't be long, he'll come… I'm sure of it…_ '

But you deliberately forget He's made you wait for 6 months already and He hasn't once made any contact with you, direct or indirect.

Time passes, and you continue waiting on the bench for a little bit, then get up when the cold starts freezing your bum and you need to literally slap some heat into it, which is a little embarrassing, but you're sure everyone has to do it in this weather, so it takes some of it away, and then you start walking around, just to stay warm and keep the blood flowing. You do this for a bit, but when you look up to the time, you notice with a start that you've been there for almost 4 hours already. A small bout of panic hits you, and you think you may've missed your phone going off, so you pull it out and check, but no… no missed calls, no unread mails, nothing. No one's tried to call you, but you really aren't surprised, because no one you know wants to be a pain; your parents think you're with friends, your friends thing you're with your parents, so no one knows you're here.

…except for Him…

That is, of course, if He's read the letter you left Him…

Doubt begins to flood your mind, and you bite your lip, worried that something might've happened, but then you remember that you don't remember ever writing down your number, and He doesn't have your number, so how would He even be able to contact you? Despite whatever connections He may have, would He really be able to get your number out of nothing?

No, of course not.

For a moment, you feel dejected and it shows on your face, but it doesn't stay long and you swiftly shake the thoughts away and decide to not think on it and you start briskly walking, keeping an eye on everything and trying to spot Him among the crowd.

Minutes pass… then more hours pass… and the crowds begin to thin. Soon, you're lucky if you run into a single person, and the many shops are starting to close, their merry "open" signs either flipped over to "closed" or just simply turned off, but it doesn't matter to you, you simply don't care as the number of people begins to dwindle as everyone goes home, possibly to nurse a hot drink, cuddle up on the couch with a blanket and possibly someone to share warmth with, and you're starting to get anxious to do the same, but you don't know where to go. Your parents? Your friends? They'll ask what you've been doing, and why you're there now, so that's out, and your only other option has yet to show, meaning that, for the moment, your only choice is to wait until it's late (or early, depending on how you look at it) enough so that your parents are asleep and you can safely sneak in without them noticing.

But you don't want to…

That would defeat the whole purpose of this whole trip, and so you decide to wait it out, because the day is not over yet, and there's still time.

You sit on a bench, surrounded by snowmen and trees full of decorations and lights and fancy bushy ribbons, but something's off and you don't know what. But then you look up and the nearest snowmen's mouth is arched down in an unhappy frown, which doesn't seem right, and so you get up and start carefully moving the pebbles of its mouth until it's once more smiling and you nod in satisfaction, taking a moment more to admire your work before picking up the gift and heading off again. You start thinking maybe you've been dealing with this the wrong way, and maybe you should've stayed in one place, so you could be found easier, so you go to the entrance, toward the archway you passed under to get there and from where you can still see the time up above on the display.

It's really dark now, even with the lights on, but you try not to let it bother you as you sit on the bench there, setting the present beside you and sighing softly as you wait. There's only a few more minutes left, and you can't help but think to yourself as you sit there ' _is he not coming?_ '

You don't want to believe that, because it hurts so much to know you meant so little to Him, to the point where you're simply tossed aside for, well, who knows what's keeping Him so busy always, but you suppose that, in a way, you don't have the right to complain. As much as He's taken from you, as much has He given you, and you've no more right to complain about things just because He isn't there.

But that doesn't stop you, of course, and you do it anyway, as you sit there, annoyed, worried, but above all else, upset. You lean your head back on the backrest, sighing unhappily as you shut your eyes, wondering if you'd be able to fall asleep in this cold weather, because that would be a very bad thing. You briefly wonder if He'd show up to wake you in time, or if you'd just freeze here to death, though hey, maybe that'll help somehow and you'd be able to see him that much quicker, though would you even be allowed in again? You did some pretty reckless stuff the last time, and the time before, and also before… well, since the beginning really.

You just sit there and think, about everything and nothing, but mostly about Him, and you wonder what He's doing and whether or not He's read your letter, whether He wants to come or if He simply doesn't have the time to bother. Does He still think of you, or has He forgotten you? Does He regret anything of those days, or has He just brushed the whole thing off as nothing out of the ordinary?

Not for the first time, you feel alone in the world, despite that you have friends, family, waiting for you, you just feel… alone. They've gotten to know you better over the past few months, but they simply don't _know_ you, and you don't think anyone ever will again… not like He did, anyway.

And suddenly there's a cold touch on your cheek and your eyes fly open in alarm, wondering what just happened, but as your eyes focus, your mouth goes open in awe and you rise to your feet slowly. Then, like a small child, you laugh and raise your arms up to the sky and spin around in circles as small, gorgeous white flakes of snow fall from the heavens around you to add an extra layer of pure white to the world. It was beautiful, and you couldn't help but feel giddy, despite how lonely you'd been feeling mere moments ago. The snow just has that kind of effect on you.

You don't even realize the last seconds of the day are ticking by as the wind blows the snow in wild swirls all around you…

15 seconds…

10 seconds

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

You cry out then, though the noise is muffled because why wouldn't it be? A scarf suddenly blowing in your face would cause anyone's voice to become a muffled mess, after all. You growl and rip it off, looking down at it in silent accusation before starting to wonder where the purple thing had even come from. You don't recall there being any people around anymore, because hey, it's midnight now, so everyone should be home now, right?

But no… one person is still here.

You hear the footfalls come before you hear the gasp, and when you look up, the sound is echoed from your own throat. Silence falls then, with only the wind blowing, this time the other way, making it seem like the scarf you're still holding is trying to return to its owner.

The silence is tense, and you can only stare, for no amount of mental preparation was ever good enough for when He were to appear in your life again as he had now. It was all you had wanted, and yet now that you have it, you don't know what to do with it.

But finally, everything comes crashing down as the full realization finally hits you that, yes, He's here, yes, He's come to see you, and yes, He's just as speechless as you are.

A sound comes from your throat, almost like a sob but not quite there, and then you're running without thinking twice, and He has no chance or time to get away before you grab him in a hug, a hug so tight you could've crushed a man's spine if you'd put just a bit more effort into it. You're babbling, you don't even know what you're saying anymore, but it doesn't matter, especially when He, slowly, cautiously, and very shakily, lifts his own arms to hesitantly return the favor.

Your head is a mess, you know, but what you don't know is how His head is just as, if not a more chaotic, mess than yours is right then. You'll not know that He was the one to find your letter, find out that it was addressed to Him, which was shocking enough for Him, but when He learned it was from you, he had almost dropped it as though it'd just caught on fire right in his hand. You'll never know that He had stuffed the letter back in the envelope, pulled it out to read some more, then stuffed it right back again, mind in a panicked frenzy and uncertain on what was happening or what He was to do in this situation.

You'll never know the conversation He had that day for hours, how He was eventually, basically, forced out into the streets, warmly tucked in as well as anyone ever could be in the wintery season, after which He mindlessly wandered the streets, unable to return alone lest He be kicked out immediately again, but unwilling to do what was expected of Him. You'll never know the inner turmoil that went through His head as He thought, over and over on repeat, ' _does he hate me? Does he want to hit me? Does he plan to yell at me? What? What does he want?_ '

They're all things you'll never know, or perhaps you will, but even then, it won't be until days, weeks, months, or even years after, but what I know for sure you will know, perhaps even tonight, is how much He has missed you, and how much He has wished to see you, only to be held back by His fears of what you might do should you ever see Him again. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, He'd believed the best option to be to leave you be and to never come near you again, despite how much He so desperately wished to, despite how much He wished so very fervently that He could be a part of your world, too. He wanted to belong within the borders of your world… no, He wanted to belong _beside_ you, within those very borders, but fear had driven Him away and He had not dared trespass when He had no idea if He would be welcomed or not. Invitation or not, humans were fickle things, known to change minds on a whim, and He knew; He'd done it, too, and only because of you.

You and He were more alike than you had ever even imagined, and this knowledge only fueled the small fire of hope that had continued burning in your chest. It gives you the courage to say those three words, those three simple words you've been wanting to say for long, but haven't had the chance to at all, and while the response is slow in being delivered, it's everything you could've ever hoped it to be…

"…stay with me?"

"…y… yes…"

And throughout the whole exchange, the present you'd spent so long wrapping up and preparing sits alone and forgotten on the bench, but it simply no longer occurs to you.

…well, I suppose that's what you get. Christmas is when you spend the day together with those you love. As fun and nice as presents are, whether it's giving or receiving, being with those you care about it more important.

So… I suppose 'knock 'm dead' is the term to use here, hm?

Also, you better be thankful, Neku… even for a Guardian Angel like me, it's not easy getting a scarf to fly up those stairs to land on your face with perfect accuracy.

Sometimes I wonder why I even bother… I mean, it's not like I get any recognition or something… but I suppose, seeing such happy expressions on the faces of people I'm in charge of is one of the reasons I love doing my job.

* * *

 **Not my best work… but it was a rush-job to get it out before Christmas. And I still have 15 minutes to go, so woot! Merry Christmas everybody!**

 **Note, I MAY get back to this one later, but I'll see how that goes.**


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